Call Me E.S.

I cool out on the west coast, lamp in the east

If your rappin for change, then I'd be dancin for peace

A pretty boy gangsta with his pants in a crease

Spike the Berrier, spike the campus police

Now I don't give a f**k if it's your aunt or your neice

Best man or ya priest, your fam's gettin deceased

Cuz I keep shit hot, like a flannel or fleece

And bringin dimes this way is sand to the beach

Relax to the sun, I get harrassed by the ton

Want to beat you for money son, I'll smack him for fun

I represent the east baby, that's where I'm from

I'll smoke you on the mic, and blacken your lungs

I keep my girls close like I'm packin a gun

By the foot of my bed, where my jacket is hung

A callabo, I don't see it happenin son

And a battle, I don't see you lastin through one

I'm taggin rappers out, cuz they're way off base

And see 'em try and take the lead as I rock the place

Esoteric fell off? No that's not the case

I'm standin in the winners circle, while you lost the race

I'm ready to wreck ya, sever ya sector

Speak of my hands, just let the 7L lecture,

Don't put it past me, like your the firearm,

And I'm the metal detector, I'm here to protect ya

My rhyme is the paint, and the beat is the texture

Interrior design, when I rhyme I affect ya

Say it's amazing, +Trail Blazin+ like Drexler

In my act, you play the bad wreckin extra

Sorry homeboy, didn't mean to upset ya

You wanna grab the mic, but your hand won't let ya

Cuz it knows that if you do, you'll go home on a stretcher

Call the ambulance on the cell to come get'cha

I do this type of shit right here, just for pleasure

Stress relief, wait 'til my next release

I'll be hittin every station like a press release

7L & Esoteric, hip-hop expertise

I'm taggin rappers out, cuz they're way off base

I see 'em tryin to take a lead as I rock the place

Esoteric fell off? No that's not the case

I'm standin in the winners circle, while you lost the race

I smack the new jacks just to add to the stats

My massive attack leaves your anatomy flat

I'm not mad at you black, yo I'm gad that you rap

As a matter of fact, cats are ? wack

Now your askin for that, maybe a pat on the back

Yo I'll tell you your phat, and sound phat on that track

Then I'll show up, where ya have the factories at

Grab a batterin axe, you start to shatter ya gats

And that'll be that, make sure everythings workin

I get heads open like a, brain surgeon

When I came splurgin, veterans became virgins

First they wanna battle but now, they ain't certain

Rhyme like a tech nine, it's the God-offilis

Clappin on command like a studio, audience

You could take a dope sample, chop it up or loop it

But still can't freak it like Joe, some cats proved it

I'm taggin rappers out, cuz they're way off base

And see 'em try and take the lead as I rock the place

Esoteric fell off? No that's not the case

I'm standin in the winners circle, while you lost the race